THE Lord had not yet exhausted his love towards Tidy, but was designing still greater mercies for her. He was going to deliver her from the thralldom of oppression, and to send her to be further instructed in his truth, and to bear testimony to his loving-kindness in another home.
The master's heart was moved to set her free; and, embarked in a small vessel, with a New England captain, Tidy found herself at twenty years of age sailing away from the land of cruel bondage, to a home where she should know the blessings of freedom. Her emancipation papers were put into the hands of the captain, and money to provide for her comfort, with the assurance that while her master lived she should never want.
At first she was sick and almost broken-hearted at the change in her condition. Much as she longed for freedom, she had formed new ties in her Mobile home, which it was hard for her affectionate nature to break. She was old enough now to look forward to some of the difficulties to be encountered in a land of strangers, seeking employment in unaccustomed ways. But she went to her Bible as usual in her trouble, and the words which the Angel of the Covenant addressed to Jacob, when, exiled from his father's house, he made the stones of Bethel his pillow, came right home refreshingly to her,—"I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest." The soreness at her heart was at once healed, and she cried out, in deep emotion, "Enough, Lord! Now I have got something to hold on by, and I will never let it go. When I get into trouble, I shall come and say, Lord, you remember what you said to me on board ship, and I know you will keep your promise."
Thus fortified for her new life, Tidy arrived at New York. The sun was just setting as she planted her foot on the soil of freedom; and as his slanting rays fell upon her, she thought of her toiling, suffering sisters, driven at this hour from labor to misery, and her heart sickened at the thought. "O God," she cried, "hasten the day when ALL shall be free."
Tidy's first experience in this wilderness of delights, where was so much to be seen, learned, and enjoyed, was a striking one, and proved how the goodness of God followed her all the days of her life. It was Saturday evening when she landed. The family with whom the captain placed her were pious people, and were glad enough of the opportunity on the morrow of taking an emancipated slave, who had never been inside a church, to the house of God. It was a humble, un-pretending edifice where the colored people worshiped, but to her it was spacious and splendid. How neat and orderly every thing appeared. Men, women, and children, in their Sunday attire, walked quietly through the streets, and reverently seated themselves in the place of worship. The minister ascended the pulpit, and the singers took their places in the choir. It was communion Sunday, and the table within the altar was spread for the holy feast. All these strange and incomprehensible proceedings filled the mind of Tidy with solemnity and awe.
The services began. The prayer and reading of the Scripture seemed to feed her hungry soul as with the bread of life. Then the congregation arose and sang,—
"Alas, and did my Saviour bleed?
And did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote his sacred head
For such a worm as I?
Oh, the Lamb, the loving Lamb,
The Lamb on Calvary;
The Lamb that was slain,
That liveth again,
To intercede for me."
All through the hymn she was actually trembling with excitement. Her whole being was thrilled, her eyes overflowed with tears, and she could scarcely hold herself up, as verse after verse, with the swelling chorus, convinced her that they sang the praises of Him whom she had seen in her dream, who stood between her and an offended God, and whom, though she knew him not, she loved and cherished in her inmost soul. Oh, if she could know more about him!
Her wish was to be gratified. As Paul said to the people of Athens, "Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you," so might the preacher of righteousness have said to this eager listener. He took for his text these words: "He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." Then followed the whole story of the cross,—the reasons why it was necessary for Jesus to give his life a ransom for many; the divine love that prompted the sacrifice; the all-sufficiency of the atonement; and the completeness of Christ's salvation. He spoke of Jesus as the one accepted Intercessor, Advocate, and Surety above, and urged his hearers to yield themselves with faith and love to this faithful and merciful Saviour.
Tidy sat with her eyes fixed on the speaker, her mouth open with amazement, and her hands clasped tightly over her heart, as if to quiet its feverish throbs; and when he had finished, and one and another in the congregation added an earnest "Amen," "Hallelujah," and "Praise the Lord," she could keep still no longer. "'TIS HE," she cried, raising her hands, "'TIS HE; But I never heard his name before."
The closing hymn fell with sweet acceptance upon her ear, and calmed, in some measure, the tumultuous rapture of her spirit:—
"Earth has engrossed my love too long!
'Tis time I lift mine eyes
Upward, dear Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.
"There the blest Man, my Saviour sits;
The God! how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
*'Seraphs, with elevated strains,
Circle the throne around;
And move and charm the starry plains,
With an immortal sound.
"Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs;
Jesus, my love, they sing!
Jesus, the life of all our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.
"Now let me mount and join their song,
And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.
"There ye that love my Saviour sit,
There I would fain have place,
Among your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face."
Is there any thing, dear children, that can penetrate the whole being with such rapturous joy as the love of Christ? If you have never felt it, learn to know him that you may experience those "infinite delights" which he only can pour in upon the soul.
And now we must take leave of Tidy. She lives still, a hearty, humble, trusting Christian. She has been led to her true rest in God, and in him she is secure and happy; "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; having nothing, and yet possessing all things."
"I have every thing I want," she says, as she sits beside me, "for God is my Father, and his children, you know, Missus, inherits the earth."
"How happens it, then, that you are so poor?" I ask.
"My Father gives me every thing he sees best for me," is her beautiful reply. "It wouldn't be good for me to have a great many things. When I need any thing, I ask him, and he always gives it to me. I AM PERFECTLY SATISFIED."
Dear children, upon this little story-tree two golden apples of instruction hang, which I want you to pluck and enjoy. One is, that if God so loved a humble slave-child, and took such pains to bring her to himself, it is our privilege to feel the same sympathy and love for this poor despised race. And this love will draw us two ways: first, towards God, admiring and praising his infinite goodness and compassion; and, secondly, towards these prostrate, down-trodden people, to do all we can, in God's name, and for his dear sake, for their elevation and instruction. Remember, "Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones, a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple,"—that is, through this feeling of love, of Christian kindness, "he shall in no wise lose his reward."
The other,—if God so loved this humble slave-child, he has the same love towards every one of you. Will you not yield yourselves to his control, and let his various loving-kindnesses draw you too to himself?
OLD DINAH JOHNSON.
ONE day little Henry Wallace came to his mother's side, as she was sitting at her work, and, after standing thoughtfully a few moments, he looked up in her face and said:
"Ma, how many heavens are there?"
"Only one, my child," replied his mother, looking up from her work with surprise at such a question. "What made you ask me that?"
"Isn't there but one?" inquired Henry, with a little sort of trouble in his voice. "Then, will Dinah Johnson go to the same heaven we do?"
"Certainly, my dear; for heaven is one glorious temple, and God is the light of it; and into it will be gathered all those who love the Lord Jesus Christ, to dwell in his presence, in fullness of joy, for ever. But Henry, my darling, why did you ask such a question? Don't you want poor old Dinah to go to the same heaven that we do?"
"Oh, yes, mamma, I love Dinah, and I want her to go to our heaven; but last Sunday papa told me that the angels were every one fair and beautiful, and Jacob Sanders says Dinah is a homely old darkey. Now, how can she change, mamma?"
Henry's mother saw at once where the difficulty lay in her little boy's mind; so, putting aside her work, she took the child up on her knee, and explained the matter to him.
"Henry," said she, "I am sorry to hear that Jacob Sanders calls Dinah a darkey; for those who are so unfortunate as to have a black skin don't like to be called that or any other bad name. They have trouble enough without that, and I hope you will never, never do it. They like best to be called colored persons, and we should always try to please them. We should pity them, and try to relieve their sorrows, and not increase them. Don't you think so?"
"Yes, ma, and I do love Dinah, and I don't care if she isn't white, like you."
"Neither does God, our heavenly Father, care, Henry, about the color of the skin. The Bible says, 'God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.' God looks at the soul more than at the body. Nothing colors THE SOUL but sin. That stains and blackens it all over, and only the blood of Jesus Christ can wash it pure and white again. But every soul that has been washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb will be welcomed into heaven, with songs of great rejoicing; and all will dwell together in peace and purity, and love and great happiness for ever.
"Poor old Dinah is one of God's dear children. She loves the dear Saviour very much, and tries in every way to please and honor him; and she is looking forward with great pleasure to the time when she shall drop that infirm, old, black body, and be clothed with light as an angel. I shall be glad for her,—sha'n't you, darling?"
"Yes, indeed, mamma,—so glad;" and the little boy's mind was henceforth at rest on that point.
But I must tell my readers who old Dinah Johnson was. Once she was a slave; but when she had become so old that her busy head and hands and feet could do no more service for her master, he had set her free. Of course, she was glad to be free,—to feel that she could go where she liked, and do as she pleased, and keep all the money she could earn for herself. Precious little it was, though, for her sight was growing dim, and her hands and feet were all distorted with rheumatism; and what with pains and poverty and old age, her strength was fast wasting. But she was happy, really happy.
If you could have looked upon her, though, you wouldn't have supposed she had any thing to be happy about. With a skin black as night, hair gray and scanty, her face was as homely as homely could be, and her limbs were weak and tottering. The old, unpainted house she lived in shook and creaked with every blast of the wintry wind, and the snow drifted in at every crack and crevice. Her furniture was very poor, and her food mean. But it is not what we see outside that makes people happy. Oh, no; happiness springs from the inside. The fountain is in the heart, from which the streams of joy and gladness flow.
With all her homeliness and poverty, old Dinah was a jewel in the sight of the Lord. He had graven her upon the palm of his hand, and written her name in the book of life; and she was treasured as a precious child in his loving heart. The name of the Lord was precious to her, also; they were bound together in a covenant of love. Of course, she was happy.
Her heavenly Friend never forgot her. He sent many a one to bring her work and money and fuel and clothes. She was never without her bread and water,—you know the Lord has told his children that their "BREAD and WATER shall be SURE,"—and almost always she had a little tea and sugar in the cupboard. At Thanksgiving time, many a good basket-full of pies and chickens found their way to her humble door; and when she had received them, she would raise her hands and eyes to heaven, and thank the Lord for his goodness, and ask for a blessing upon the kind hearts that sent the gifts. She did not always know who they were, but she was sure she should see them and love them in heaven.
The only thing that seemed to trouble old Dinah was that she couldn't help others; that she couldn't do any thing for her Lord and Saviour. "I am so black and ugly," she would say, "and so old and lame and poor, that I a'n't fit to speak to any body; but I'll pray, I'll pray." She managed to hobble to church; and there, from her high seat in the gallery,—poor colored people must always have the highest seats in the house of God,—she could look all around the congregation. She took especial notice of the young men and women that came into church; and what do you think she did? Why, she would select this one and that one to pray for, that they might be converted. She would find out their names, and something about them; and then she would ask God, a great many times every day, that he would send his Holy Spirit to them, and give them new hearts. They didn't know any thing about her, of course, nor what she was doing. By and by, she would hear the glad news that they had come to Christ. Then she would choose others. These were converted, too; and by and by there was a great revival in the church, and many sinners were saved. After a time, there came a large crowd to join the church, and number themselves among the Lord's people; and poor old Dinah saw twelve young men, and several young women stand up in the aisle that day, and give themselves publicly to God, whom she had picked out and prayed for in this way. Oh, she was so happy, then! Her old eyes overflowed with tears of joy, and she couldn't stop thanking and praising God.
Now this was the good old creature that Henry Wallace thought might have to go to another heaven, because her skin was black. Do YOU think God would need to make another heaven for her? No, indeed. But I'll tell you, dear children, what I think. If there is a place in heaven higher and nearer God than another, that's the place where poor old Dinah will be found at last. I think that those who love God most, whether they are black or white, rich or poor, learned or ignorant, refined or rude, will stand the nearest to him in heaven. I am sure there was such warm love between her and the Saviour, that he will not want her to be far away from him in that bright world. He will call her up close to his side, and look upon her with sweet, affectionate smiles all the time. And many a one will wonder, perhaps, who that can be, so favored, so distinguished. They will never imagine it to be the glorified body of a poor, old, black slave, from such a wretched home,—will they?
If there are TWO heavens, I would like to be admitted to hers,—wouldn't you?
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